Loss

“Deprived of something of great value”, one definition has it. An old friend, a companion, a confidant, a sharer of secrets and sacraments, history and hopes. Never far from touch, and now a special inhabitant in the world of my memory. And such great memories over nearly 50 years!

I am very sad, but not really feeling deprived. She was a bright light who offered unqualified acceptance to all in her path. She was never without time to be of service to any in need of her attention, offering everything she could with no strings attached. It is impossible not to have learned about optimism, kindness, generosity and love in her presence. She enriched my life and left me that legacy; she couldn’t have done more, and it is more than enough.

 

 

Trios and Thirds

Once upon a time (as all good stories begin), three young women from three east coast cities moved to Washington, DC after college to begin new lives. Happenstance led them to become housemates, first on Capitol Hill, and then in Georgetown, from which they pursued their adventures. They became friends toward the end of their first third of life (if a lifetime can roughly be guessed in thirds). In the course of five more years they  married and moved on, but not before sharing high times, travel, laughs, tears, and a variety of hair styes. (Life at that time was not digitally recorded as it is now, which is sorta too bad, although maybe not…).

The second third of life found them in entirely different circumstances, with only brief sightings at special events. None of them can remember specifically what kept them so busily apart, but time seems to do that. 

And now the third third of life has arrived, and they’ve reconnected, this time for a happy three days. Living in South Carolina, Texas, and California, it wasn’t quite a walk down the street, but it was a walk down memory lane, and a look forward as well. Two of the trio raised children, one didn’t; two share political views, one doesn’t; two have faith roots, one doesn’t; two are food and wine enthusiasts, one isn’t; two needlepoint, one doesn’t, and as you have guessed, the twosomes aren’t static. All of them read like fiends, and remain married to their first husbands. None of them imagined their current situations for themselves, but none would change much about how they got there either (OK, a little tweak here and there, but nothing serious.)

The best part? The young women they first met and liked remain alive and well, and have morphed into interesting adults. And they still like one another, a lot. 

Carole, Nancy, Sally-1